>>Fishermen's Voice Monthly Newspaper, Gouldsboro Maine

Petro Ioannou, the oldest active fisherman at Halki, Greece. With the population of the island now much reduced, about 30 of the remaining 200 residents are fishermen. Summer, 2005. Photo: Karen Burke Photo

Neolithic peoples inhabited this island in the Aegean Sea, west of the much larger island Rhodes (Rodos) in Greece. Small fishing vessels line the harbor breakwater now; yellow nets are piled along the stone and concrete docks and boardwalk. Men sit under the village shade trees cleaning shrimp and baiting lines. The hooks are carefully placed into holes in the rim of a large basket. This is Halki.

Petros Ioannou, one of the oldest island men still fishing, happily shares his stories and knowledge. A native islander, once in the Navy, he’s been fishing for 50 years. “Mystros,” his five-meter-long wooden fishing boat, is 35 years old. The square stern has a well, which he can stand in. Maneuvering the rudder and engine from his perch, he also sets nets and hauls his catch here. I know this because he graciously invited me to head out with him one afternoon and set a drift net. I sit atop a center hatch in the center as instructed. The faded marine blue and gray decking with ancient oars tucked off to the side and steady-as-she-goes boatman seem to ride together in bliss.

It’s a Tuesday evening, around 5:30 when we head for the western end of the island. The water is calm and air temperature perfect, around 68 degrees. Coasting past the sand and gray colored rocky hills and shoreline caves, I notice aquaculture pens. About eight years ago, according to Petros, fish farming was introduced to Halki. Sipoa and larraki were raised in the pens with the agreement that the fish would not be sold on the island, so as not to compete with independent fishermen. The company, however, now faces bankruptcy and the operation appeared shut down.

Passing Karnia, the isolated beach where I have been swimming, we head northwest and I can see the stone-built lookouts and towers presumably as old as the island’s castle built in the 1400s by the Knights of St. John Crusaders.

We enter Petros’ fishing cove, flanked by a steep rocky shore and hand by hand he sets 900 feet of drift net, all the while monitoring our distance to shore (about 30 feet or so). I notice he had removed his watch - a careful guy. It takes about 20 minutes to patiently release the net into the sea. Amazingly, the net piled onto the boat does not tangle or fetch up. It is set between 3 and 12 meters deep. In the morning, Petros will return for the harvest of a variety of flatfish.

Typical of the larger boats that fish among the small islands west of Rhodes, Greece. This one is moored off Halki, Greece, 2005. Photo: Karen Burke Photo

Heading back to the harbor, one gigantic rock face with its thousands of crevices reminds me of the sun-wrinkled faces here. The sun is lowering and great shadows fall over Rhodes to the east, which looks painted in mauve, grey and sandstone. Cape Monolithos rises fiercely on the southwest side of Rhodes, a mere five kilometers away. Looking fort-like, the giant rock rises hunderds of feet and then flattens with a plateau like crown. Four or five other small boats are out fishing. A two-masted schooner, about 75 feet long, soon tags along behind us, bringing tourists to the beautiful island. When asked if the incredibly clear water (you can see the bottom at depths of one hundred and forty feet) is clean, Petros responds with serious eyes and a corner of his mouth curled up, “I hope so.”

Cod, calamari, squid, shrimp, seabeam, swordfish, tuna and small flatfish are caught in small quantities. The catch remains small most likely due to the lack of over fishing and local control. The sizes are large with tuna up to 350 kilograms, swordfish 120 kilograms, and octopus (caught with nets) up to 14 kilograms. Sponge diving pretty much ended here in the last century due to a blight. Many Halkians moved on to Tarpon Springs, Florida, for the sponge diving there. Not straying far from the homeland, many of those folks continue to support the island sending contributions for a new school and road.

Once home to 5,000 residents, fewer than 200 people inhabit Halki today. Roughly 25 to 30 men continue the tradition of fishing. Small wooden sailcraft were once used here as fishing vessels. I saw one remaining in the harbor, albeit with a tattered sail. Now that wooden and fiberglass boats run by motors and engines, rather than the wind, Petros recounts he can’t remember a serious fishing accident in the past 50 years. Only in winter, when the occasional easterly or westerly winds pick up and storms blow, is the weather a threat. The waters are relatively calm in this part of the Mediterranean. In the wintertime, boats are moved to moorings in the harbor and if the wind isn’t blowing too badly, the men get out to fish.

Asked to recount his favorite fishing story, Petros’ eyes gleamed with amusement. Five years ago he was out fishing with his nephew when they ran into a school of small tuna. (See Fishermens Voice, October 2005). It was April or May and they were fishing with nets. Realizing the amount of fish they were seeing, they called for help from the island fishermen. A total of 1500 tuna were caught that day. A village feast was enjoyed by all; the remaining fish were shared amongst all the islanders. Such is life here.

The fishermen get together in the winter at the tavern to watch fishing shows on television, swap stories and share their knowledge. I continuously saw them helping one another — docking, baiting, cleaning shrimp and nets. The community tradition of fishing is very much alive in Halki for the time being. The life is a good one, and Halkians seem to know, appreciate and protect this “Island of Peace and Friendship.”